Too Many Questions, Too Little Time
by Flatkatsi
Summary: Jack has trouble communicating.


Too Many Questions, Too Little Time

  
Has anyone mentioned to the Jaffa that bullets hurt? I mean really, really hurt? You'd think that I was putting it on, the way that he's acting. He's standing over me, one of those really Jaffa like looks on his face and all he can say is "What were you thinking?"  
  
What was I thinking? Shit! I was thinking - "Get out of the way, you fool, he has a gun."  
  
Stupid me – must remember not to jump in front of a bullet next time. Let it hit the decrepit old coot. Let him be the one lying here, bleeding in the dirt.  
  
Oh, come on now! He's walking away from me! I would have thought better of Bra'tac. I would have thought that I at least rated an attempt at bandaging. Does he think that all this red stuff is just ketchup? That this is some badly acted television show?  
  
What is it with the guy? I really had thought that we were beginning to, if not see eye to eye, at least respect each other. I would understand if there were more of these damned warriors waiting to shoot us, but Bra'tac took out the last of them just now. Pity that he got a shot in first.  
  
Damn, but bullets hurt.  
  
Primitive sort of gun too. Bit like a flintlock. Big flash. Loud bang and thud – collapsed colonel.  
  
I admit that I hadn't really planned it, hadn't thought it through. It was just instinct. Sort of like saving cats stuck in trees and helping old ladies across the road. See an elderly gentleman about to get a bullet in him and just jump. And you get about as much thanks as you would from the cats and the old ladies – a scratch, a thump with an umbrella, and a "what were you thinking?".  
  
I just don't get this. I would tell him that he's an ungrateful ... No, I probably wouldn't. Jack O'Neill was brought up to be respectful and polite to his elders.  
  
But I am very tempted.  
  
Getting very painful over here.  
  
Hello! Could do with some help here!  
  
Don't mind me. I'll just lie on the ground and bleed then.  
  
I'm not sure where it hit. I've tried to see but things are getting a bit hazy. A little soft and fuzzy around the edges.  
  
Ah – finally he decides to come join me! Nice to see you too, Bra'tac old buddy. Take a seat, I'll be right with you.  
  
Okay then. Take a kneeling position instead. At least that way you're closer and I might be able to hear what you're saying. You have to stop whispering. Your eyes are sort of blurry too. Sort of wet looking.  
  
Listen, I'm sure that whatever you are saying is very important, but I can't hear a damn word. Your mouth is moving but there ain't nothing coming out.  
  
Okay. I got that bit. I can recognise "foolish pup" even if I can't hear it. Now that I resent. I'm not a pup. I'm a mean, ornery old dog that still has a few new tricks up his sleeve. And I'm not going to teach them to you, old man.  
  
I'll reserve judgment on the 'foolish' part. After recent events my intelligence is in serious doubt.  
  
At last, some action. That's it. Try to stop the bleeding. About time.  
  
That's odd – it must be a stomach wound. Very odd. Stomach wounds are usually very painful. I can't feel a thing now, not even his hand pressing on me. I can see it though. It's almost as if he is pushing right through me, right to the other side.  
  
I should tell him not to press so hard. Can't he see that he's pushing the blood through? Can't he see that it's puddling under me as well? There really is a lot. Awfully big hole. I should tell him.  
  
Oh look! Company.  
  
I wondered when Teal'c would show. Put the two of them on the same planet and it's as if they're joined at the hip. I'm surprised that it took him this long to get here. Teal'c will know what to do. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to realise that I need some serious medical attention here.  
  
I'm looking awfully pale.  
  
Oh for crying out loud! Does that help? I ask you, does that help? What is it with this kneeling in the dirt? Get up, brush my blood off your knees and for Pete's sake go get some help!  
  
Anyone would think that I was dead already.  
  
Oh crap!  
  
No! No! No!  
  
I am not dead. I refuse to be dead. I may be a bit damaged. A bit spindled. A bit folded. Definitely a bit mutilated. But not dead. It must be one of those out of body experiences. Next thing you know there will be a white light. "Go towards to light, Jack. Go toward the light."  
  
Oh!  
  
Look! 

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
"O'Neill."  
  
"O'Neill."  
  
I heard you the first time.  
  
Stereo Jaffa. Not something that I want to wake up to every day.  
  
Looking a bit peaky there, T. A bit tired. You should get more sleep. You should take a leaf out of Master Bra'tac's book. He just looks pissed. Seriously pissed. I'm so glad that it can't be me that he's annoyed at.  
  
I feel great. More than great actually. Suspiciously great.  
  
Where the hell am I?  
  
And what am I lying in?  
  
Oh, that's just peachy. Do these sarcophagus just lie around like Venus fly traps waiting for me to pass by?  
  
And explain to me exactly why that aggravating, infuriating, annoying old man is yelling at me?  
  
What does he mean, "What were you thinking?"  
  
The End


End file.
